"Yes, my child, I have. I can say no more now, but I have hopes." Claire's careworn face grew more cloudy as she uttered a low sigh. "But look here, father; what do you mean," repeated Morton, "by your magnificent chance?" The Master of the Ceremonies coughed behind one delicate hand, brushed a few imaginary specks from his sleeve, then took out his snuff-box, and refreshed himself with a pinch in a very elaborate way. "You are a man now, Morton, and I will speak plainly to you, as I have before now spoken plainly to your sisters. My only hope for the future is to see you both make good marriages." "Why, that won't send you to heaven, father," said the lad, grinning. "I mean my--our--earthly future, sir," said the old man. "This is no time for ribald jest. Remember your duty to me, sir, and follow out my wishes." "Oh, very well, father," said Morton sulkily. "But, papa dear, you surely do not think of Morton marrying," said Claire anxiously. "And why not, madam, pray? Younger men have married before now, even princes and kings, when it was politically necessary, at twelve and fifteen; my memory does not serve me at the moment for names, but let that pass." "But have you any fixed ideas upon the subject, papa?" "My dear Claire! How dense you are! Did I not tell you about Morton's providential rescue of Lady Drelincourt's favourite, and of her impassioned admiration of his bravery? She saw him at great disadvantage then; but I am going to arrange with--er--one of the principal tailors, and Morton must now take his place amongst the best dressed bucks on the Parade. With his manly young person, and a few touches in deportment that I can give him, his prospect is sure, I will answer for it." "Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!" roared Morton, bursting out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Morton!" and the old man turned round fiercely. "Why, you don't want me to marry that old female Guy Fawkes, father!" "Morton! my son! you grieve and pain me. How dare you speak like that of a leader of society--a lady of title, sir--of great wealth. Why, her diamonds are magnificent. I will be plain with you. You have only to play your cards well, and in due course others will be issued--Mr Morton Denville and the Countess of Drelincourt." "Why, father, all the fellows would laugh at me." "Sir, a man with horses, carriages, servants, a town mansion and country seat, and a large income can laugh at the world." "Oh, yes, of course, father; but she's fifty or sixty, and I'm not twenty." "What has that to do with it, sir! How often do men of sixty marry girls of seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen?" "But she paints, and wears false hair." "Matters of which every gentleman, sir, would be profoundly ignorant as regards a lady of title." "But, papa dear, surely you are not serious?" said Claire, who had listened with horror painted in every feature.